


Business Time

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Tentacles, Xeno, tentabulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a few surprises when John and Karkat get into each other's pants the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Time

You are John Egbert and you are not panicking. Whatever you are doing, it is definitely not panicking. Ok, so maybe you’re a little on the sorta-nervous side, but only sorta, and maybe you have every reason to be panicking, but really, you’re not! You were a boy scout, when those still existed, so you know to expect the unexpected. Or was it to always be prepared? Either way. You are totally, completely, unequivocally unalarmed, and proceeding as before.

Um.

Okay! So. Maybe, after a couple of months of sloppy interspecies makeouts with your grumpy alien kindaohmygodsototallyis boyfriend, you thought, maybe, just maybe, you’d be ready when ohgod you finally got into each other’s pants.

Actually, if you’re being perfectly honest, you might be panicking. Just a little bit. If your panic was a boat it would be something small and unassuming, like the Titanic. And it would be about to crash into a gigantic iceberg made up of oh my god what the fuck are those things between Karkat’s legs and shit why are they moving so much.

You thought you were ready. You really did. You read a whole slew of Wikipedia articles about this kind of thing –sexsexjustsayit. You know what is supposed to go where, as much as it makes your stomach flutter with little cracked-out butterflies of tension. Most of all, you know what a penis looks like, you have one for Pete’s sake!

Karkat does not have a penis.

Not even close.

The writhing mass moving wetly between Karkat’s legs looks like what’s left on the sink counter after Fluthlu shaves. You might also add this is a really, really inopportune time for your inner Rose to be popping up.

Karkat has a veritable collection of tentacles, you suppose you would call them, each tapering to a soft point. They’re undulating in on themselves, curling and twisting around each other. You’re mildly surprised by the variety. Well, a thin film of surprise forming on the vast pot of alarm you’re brewing. Some are thin, some are fat. Some are long, some are short, sort of nubby like his horns. The mass is centered around three larger, uh, tentacles, each one about seven inches long and roughly the thickness of your thumb, though it’s hard to tell with the way they keep moving.

You’re pretty sure Dave sent you a Japanese anime about this once, when he was trying to freak you out. Only the tentacles were bigger, and you’re not in a schoolgirl outfit, even if you’re blushing like one.

Karkat is giving you a look. A look that tells you that he thinks you’re an idiot and is concerned in equal measures. It’s a look you’re used to seeing.

“What.” It’s not really a question. He reiterates.

“What the nooksucking human concept of hell, John. Why’d you stop?”

You garble out a high-pitched string of syllables that somehow manages to form exactly zero words, and make your voice crack no less than three times. Karkat quirks an eyebrow, but his face is starting to turn almost as red as yours feels, an oh he looks like a dusty rose, bright crimson under grey and that is so beautiful- you mean handsome-you mean-

“Hey moron. I didn’t ask you to have a stroke, I asked you what was wrong.” You’re propped up against some pillows, shoved to the end of your ‘strange human sleep grubshmallow’ as Karkat calls it, and he’s kneeling over you, hands running in a way you can tell is nervous over your shins, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the mutated octopus springing forth from his loins. At least there are no suction cups. Karkat heaves a sigh, looking rather cross, well more so than usual, fingers tightening subtly on your legs. He sounds nervous when he speaks.

“Is this…not going to work?” You don’t say anything at first, too busy trying to figure out a polite way to say maybe, and he takes your silence as a yes.

“Oh god fucking damn it. I knew it! I knew you were going to get one look at a bulge and say ‘gee sorry Karkat my hideously mutated human genitals are not going to work for this ha ha-” You kick him in the face, and it manages to shut him up for a moment, though he looks kind of frustrated and a little sad. Oh. He looks all tense like he’s about to get up and leave, and that’s what finally pushes your over to the panic side of the adrenaline fence so you shoot up and grab his shoulder, words tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can think of them.

“No! I mean yes! I mean no! It’s fine, I mean. It’ll- it’ll work. I think. It should. You’re just. It’s just. Uh. Different?” Wow that was way eloquent. You bite down on your tongue to keep from rambling on. Karkat is somehow managing to look both curious and horrified and yeah, you’ve been there.

“I can’t imagine why this would be the road block to finally halt this careening train wreck of a relationship in its poorly thought out tracks. What are you hiding?” His hands reach down for the fastening on your pants,

“Hey wait!-“ and your abortive attempts to stop him come about 3 seconds too late. He has your jeans and boxers (chosen specifically for this occasion) shoved down to your thighs before you can realize your reflexive need to keep them up is so dumbdumbydumb and now he’s staring at your half-hard cock looking kind of alarmed and kind of angry and you’re blushing so bad you’re there’s about a 95% probability of your face exploding or bursting into flames or something equally drastic.

“What the fuck, John.” Karkat’s biting his lip, razor teeth worrying warm grey skin. He makes it sound like this is your fault. Which is total bullshit.

“Where’s the rest?” You first response is to be offended. The second is to gasp as he takes your cock in his hand and begins to move it like he’s shaking hands with your fucking dick. His palm is so, so warm though, and you feel yourself beginning to grow hard, and so does Karkat, apparently, because he draws his hand back like something bit him, making some kind of garbled, growly sound of distress.

“The hell-“

“It’s supposed to do that!”

What proceeds is probably the most awkward silence of your entire life. He’s glaring at you, and you’re trying to glare at him. It feels like hours. You’re beginning to think that perhaps this wasn’t the greatest idea, and maybe you should both pack up and go, hey try again next week no hard feelings, when he breaks the silence.

“Okay.” The word has some kind of deadly finality in it. You squeak (damn it) back,

“Okay?” Karkat nods, and his hands are back on you, warm dry palms smoothing over your chest and sides. Meanwhile you’re trying to kickwriggle out of your pants, ignoring the disgruntled sound Karkat makes when he has to move to let you do it. You don’t feel as exposed as you thought you would. Huh.

“At least one of us is intelligent enough to manage problem solving. We can figure it out.” He shifts forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss, preemptively vetoing any protests you might have had about his opinion on your intelligence. Your arms lock over his shoulders automatically, and you mold your mouth against his. You’re both very careful about your teeth. The first time the two of you had gone past quick pecks had been equal parts humiliating and horrifying for both parties. The split lip you’d walked away with had lasted for weeks, and Karkat had to throw away a perfectly good shirt because he couldn’t get the blood out.

This kiss is warm and tender, though Karkat would make empty threats of physical violence if you ever said as much, and you’re concentrating on the sensation of Karkat’s tongue running over yours when you feel something wet and warm curling and writhing against your thigh. A lot of somethings. You don’t mean to yelp, bite both yours and Karkat’s tongues, and smack your forehead against his, but you do.

Karkat reels back, rather understandably, with a shout;

“Fuck!”

You kind of titter nervously,

“Sorry!” Karkat looks like he doesn’t at all believe you. His face is all screwed up with an indignant kind of anger, and he is just too funny.

“Seriously, John? I’m starting to doubt you even want to do this. Unless this is some kind of backwards, unsurprisingly misguided form of human-“ You cut him short by planting a kiss right on his big stupid angry mouth. It works pretty well, and this time you don’t flip when he leans back in and you feel the slick movements of his bulge against your thigh. Your stomach jumps, but it’s not entirely unpleasant, and you find yourself wondering exactly what he’s able to do with those things. Oh.

Those things are definitely prehensile. Wow okay.

The only context you’ve ever used the word ‘prehensile’ in before was talking about monkey tails.

A laugh coughs its way out of your throat, sudden, and definitely uncalled for. Once you start, it is impossible to stop. The floodgates have opened. You are positively screaming with laughter. You think that maybe Karkat makes a disgruntled noise, and you only realize he’s gone when you hear the door slam.

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to take writing this seriously. It didn't work?


End file.
